


The Way Things Change

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Cylon Death, Cylons, Dark, Fugitives, Gen, Long, Medical Experimentation, New Caprica, Original Character Death(s), Past Relationship(s), Resistance, Sex Work, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 09:11:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6278440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the run and friendless, Laura makes friends in the underworld to help her resist the Cylon occupation heralded by Baltar and Gina. And they're not the only ones after her. Goes AU just before actual New Caprica arc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: The Way Things Are

Isobel had eyes, and when she saw the woman walk into Ambrosia, looking over her shoulder, it was like the entire game'd gotten a whole new layer. Taking over from Phalen, keeping her trim out of Zarek's hands, keeping herself out of the sight lines of that little wanna-be consigliere Lee Adama, making Ambrosia a place where you went for intel as much as the trim? That was easy compared to what Isobel was about to do, taking on this woman.

"We can get rid of her, Izzie," was the first thing Kimba said, alerting her that yes, that was the ex-president and she WAS reeling like a drunk, without even the Billy kid along now to help her out. "Say the word, we'll just take her out back. Baltar's got a price on her head -- we can use it."

"We're not getting rid of her," Isobel answered, noticing that her corset was getting too big again. If anyone had told her six months ago that she'd be one of the hottest women left in the universe, forty pounds skinnier, and dancing six hours a day for drooling men, Izzie would have told them to frak themselves. "You make sure nobody gives her grief."

"Izzie?" Kimba said. Kimba was religious; it'd pained her plenty to hear about Baltar's campaign against Roslin, who Kimba thought was a voice of the gods, a prophet, and better than anything ever. "You sure?"

"Frak yeah, I'm sure. She's useful," Isobel said. "That's someone who had her own self, and two minions, and managed to take a third of the fleet to Kobol. I don't care if it's her, the gods, or whatever. We can use her, and I'm frakking bored. Get my set ready for the pole, get her somewhere where I can watch her during my first set, and for gods' sake, get the woman a drink."

Kimba nodded and fled, and Izzie put the finishing touches on her outfit for the night. Whether or not she ended up taking the Roslin woman on, there was work to do tonight.

They didn't announce her. They didn't have to. The music stopped, and the spotlight fell on her stage, her pole, and then that long, loooong needle scratch.

Everyone watched Isobel dance. And she loved that, loved watching the crowd's breath rise and fall on her every motion, but tonight she had her eye on the woman at the edge of the crowd who was watching her intently.

Laura Roslin. Savior of the fleet. Traitor. Prophet. Whore. Nobody knew who or what she really was anymore. Baltar had pointed out that because of her cure, she couldn't accurately be known as human or Cylon. And he would never accuse his opponent of Cylonity, but the implication was clear as glass.

Woman had her arms around herself tight, watching Isobel dance, throw herself around the pole and sneer and toss her head for fifty men, sweating and offering anything, anything, just for Isobel's attention.

Isobel'd gotten so good that she didn't need to undress anymore. Tonight she was in black, a tank top and denim cut-offs, along with long black gloves and sparkly platform shoes that she traded around with five other girls.

It was good, the energy of the crowd, the music, Isobel's moves, and when she caught Roslin's eye again, the woman was just as caught up as the boys. In a slightly different way -- but she was definitely caught.

So when Isobel slithered off stage, she slithered through the crowd, the men melting back because they knew touching her was an open invitation to a beating.

She walked right up to Laura Roslin and put a hand on her face. "C'mon, baby, I saw you looking," said Isobel, enjoying the spectacle immensely.

"You're hard to miss," Roslin said wryly, letting herself be led away while the men glared daggers at the older woman and Isobel made sure her hips twisted and shimmied with every step.

"So are you," Isobel said, opening the door to her office-slash-bedroom-slash-storage room and ushering Roslin in. "Frak, woman. I feel like asking if you're looking for trim or looking to BE trim, coming into Ambrosia like you did."

"I came looking for Isobel Mendes," Roslin said guilelessly. Isobel got a better look at her; woman was tired. She'd been running for days, Izzie remembered, and it showed. "You know her?"

"I wear her body," Izzie said. "Hi. What are you looking for?"

"Refuge," Roslin said. "I need a place to hide and this place is off the map."

"This place is very much on the map for men like Baltar and Zarek, Madam President," Isobel answered. "But I get your drift. Except now I do need to ask: you looking to buy trim or sell it? I couldn't put you on stage, but we put you in a better dress, give you a few props, you'd be up to your ass in goods."

"I'm looking for a place to hide."

"I'm not running a homeless shelter for ex-presidents," Isobel said, feeling almost horrible saying it, but not really. Before she took Roslin on, she wanted to see what the bitch was made of. Conditions in the fleet weren't good, especially for poorer women, and Isobel wasn't running a charity operation. Izzie was running a strip club that gave the power players of the underworld -- and sometimes, Roslin's world -- a place to make deals.

"I'm not asking for charity," Roslin said calmly. "From what I understand it, your girls aren't really prostitutes -- trim, is that what you call them? They do a lot of dancing, some escort work, but it costs more than most people in the fleet can afford for sex. I also understand you don't take currency; you work strictly in goods, services, and intel."

"You've got good resources for an out-of-power Cylon bitch," Isobel said, noting that Taraja had left dinner on the desk, and there was a new bottle of wine. Raspberry -- sickly shit, but probably the kind of thing Roslin would prefer. "What kinds of services do you offer me in exchange for mine, Madam President?"

"You need a manager for the girls," Roslin began, surprising Isobel. "You do well enough, but you're an outside person. You've got the business outside to do; I can manage the internals. Encourage the girls to listen better, see how the trends are moving. Half your waitresses can't calculate a tab, which is probably why you trade goods, but we can fix that."

"I trade goods because paper money might as well be toilet paper, but continue," Izzie said.

"You're running most of the prostitutes in the fleet," Laura said, getting into her topic. "You have a better network of eyes in the fleet than Baltar, and I can help once I have a place to stand. A good half of the fleet will be running information through your bar here. And that's what you really want, isn't it?"

Isobel smiled. "I want better conditions for the poor, Madam President," she said. "Maybe you'll learn a little about why our culture blew the frak up, working here."

"So I'm working here?" Roslin asked.

"You frak it up, there's always tricks to turn," Izzie said, hiding her elation. "Trust me, lots of men want to frak you. Zarek has an elaborate fantasy. Started calling his favorite girl Laura. Baltar wants to strangle you when you come. Lee Adama doesn't know. I could go on. But the leadership of the fleet, woman, they want in those pants."

"I know," Roslin said. "Not quite to that level of detail. But I do realize that part of the thrill of having a woman president is the idea of getting to wrestle her to submission where it really counts."

Izzie couldn't smile. "That's frakking depressing."

"I know," Roslin said.

* * *

Of all the places to turn and make a stand against Baltar's collaborationist government, to rally the people to save those prisoners taken from them by Cylons -- prisoners that included most of the people Laura cared about these days -- a strip club wouldn't have been her favorite one.

But Isobel Mendes was not quite what Laura expected. She expected a canny, conniving kind of woman, one who knew men, who was operating just out of range of Zarek. Another short-term respite.

Instead, there was both compassion and intelligence behind Isobel's eyes, and a confidence that was heartening. Isobel moved like she knew what she was capable of, and that was anything she wanted to be capable of.

"I don't want to hear your long-term plans," Isobel said, bent over a notepad and looking at an open drawer of goods that made Ambrosia one of the wealthiest establishments in the fleet. "No need to get me involved in treason at the outset. But talk to me about this week. What do you want from this week?"

"Billy," Laura said confidently. "I need him moving in and out of here."

"Not Lee Adama?" Isobel asked, lifting her head.

"No. Not a chance," Laura said fiercely. The memory was still painful, of the way Lee had turned on her, had started believing Baltar's lies, had put the final nail in the coffin with his revelation.

"So it was true, huh?" Isobel said.

"It was true," Laura said.

Isobel nodded. "He might be helpful at some point," she said practically, pushing her hair back over her ears.

"Not this week," Laura said.

"So you want your friend Billy off the grid and in and out of Ambrosia, probably to pass intel," Isobel said. "What else?"

"I want to meet with anyone who'll meet with me. Hear about why Baltar won, and convince them that they need to invoke their right of no confidence in the man," Laura said. "I mean, that's probably the two-week plan, but..."

Isobel started laughing. "Oh, you don't really know much about your people, do you?" she asked. "Baltar won because the people who vote liked him. The ones with money and power. And it was close even with them. There in fact might have been some fraud, even with your whoring around and half-Cylon blood."

"There are only forty-nine thousand people in this fleet," Laura said, horrified. "You're telling me there's voter fraud and disenfranchisement with this few people?"

"I'm telling you that fifteen percent of the women of this fleet have sold themselves since the Cylon attacks," Isobel said. "Maybe just once, maybe to get chocolate or meds, but this society's problems didn't go away just because the society did."

Laura nodded, bowing her head. "I want to meet with your girls, I think," she said.

"And they want to meet you," Isobel said. "But before we get to all that, you need to eat something and take a shower, because you smell bad and look hungry and tired. Besides, if you want to hide, you need to stop looking like a president and more like someone who's at home here."

* * *

Lee was tired of the Baltar Administration already, and it hadn't been a week since President Roslin ( _not the president any more_ , his brain reminded him) had fled from the accusations and disappeared, leaving the legality of the election in doubt.

It had killed Lee, knowing his reservations about Roslin were all accurate. She hadn't stood to fight. Laura hadn't even stood up for his father, Kara, and Dualla, who needed her more than ever, unable to fight, unable to do anything. Instead, she'd done the Cylon thing and gone to ground, like a rat.

And in a world where Cylons were walking the corridors of Galactica bold as brass, it made her even more the coward.

But Lee couldn't stop thinking about Laura, about the look in her eyes when he'd admitted they'd had the affair, about how she had lifted her chin and left. Disappeared without a trace from his life and from her peoples' with that last cry of traitor following her.

"Captain Adama," someone hailed him, and Lee swiveled to see Gina, the blonde Cylon from the peace movement, holding a folder. "We have an assignment for you."

Lee smiled crookedly. "Of course," he said, reminding himself this woman was the only thing between his father and a slow, painful death. He had to get along with her. For his father. For Dee. For Kara. "How can I help you?"

"I think you know," Gina said. "The Roslin situation is out of hand. It's been four days and not a single person has given President Baltar any information about her whereabouts."

"President Roslin...former president Roslin...is very popular," Lee said. "If she stays with partisans, it might take weeks to find her."

"That's unacceptable," Gina said. "She must be found."

"Why?" Lee heard himself say. "She's not on the list of deportees, and as a Colonial citizen, has a right to privacy and free motion in the fleet."

"She's not a citizen," Gina replied. "Your own laws suggest that a Cylon has no rights."

"So you're saying she's a Cylon again," Lee said, balling up one hand into a fist, trying not to show his anger.

"I'm saying that her blood tests deny her rights as a human being in your system, and her behavior denies her the rights Cylons give their own," Gina said, looking at Lee coolly. "She's not a person in either case. She's a rat, and I want her hunted down and shot."

"Shoot her and you'll lose your breeding stock," Lee said sarcastically. "There will be riots. People won't stand for it."

Gina nodded along as if she cared. "We're aware of the problems. But that's why you're on the case, Captain Adama," she said, handing him a folder. "We'll make you a deal. Shoot Roslin in the head, and we'll return your father and Petty Officer Dualla to the fleet."

"You've got to be frakking kidding me," Lee said, staring at the Cylon with his heart pounding and his hands sweaty. "You're trying to blackmail me into assassinating Roslin with my father and Dee? Frak you."

"Still in love with her, then?" Gina asked. "I understand, of course. It's hard to look the woman you love in the face and let her die. Of course, that's what's going to happen to Petty Office Dualla if you act like this is a request one more time."

Lee swallowed. This was for his father. This was for Dee. This was for everyone, and he had to go along to get along, he had to make the fleet safer, and Laura wasn't doing that, so he had to make the hard choices now. This was for his father. One death would secure so many lives.

"Kara comes, too," he said at last. "My father, Dee, and Kara, and I'll take care of your vermin problem."

"Done," Gina said. "Starbuck is a little inconvenienced, thanks to the hybrid program, but we can make arrangements."

Lee pretended not to hear that. "How long do I have?"

"Fourteen days," Gina said, turning away. "We have faith in you, Captain Adama. You're a man who knows how to get things done."

 


	2. Chapter Two: The Way Things Were

_"I'm in love with you," Lee whispers, his hands around Laura's waist. "You were so good today. I really think you can do anything you want to do."_

_Laura twists around, eyes bright and strokes his face slowly. "I can't do this anymore," she tells him. "We can't do this anymore. Everyone is starting to suspect we're lovers."_

_"Who cares?" Lee asks. "We've earned the right to be lovers. We've fought hard together, Laura."_

_"Lee," she murmurs, resting her head against his, her hand catching and twisting around his as the other cups his jaw. "We're fighting for the people, remember? It doesn't matter how happy or unhappy we are, it doesn't matter what we want. We're saving humanity."_

_"They can't be saved knowing that we're doing this?" Lee asks, brushing his mouth against hers. Laura captures it with her own, and the air is hot with desire, with the ache of never getting enough time to do this. Lee knows she wants him badly, that she's in love with him, too._

_"I should have never kissed you," Laura answers. "But I was weak. We were weak, and it has to stop."_

_She pulls back. Lee stares at her, and his eyes get hard and cold. "You were weak," he says. "All I am to you is a moment of weakness?"_

_"That's right," she lies, putting her arms around herself. "We're not going to do this anymore."_

That was what she had told him. Lying as well as she ever had, Laura thought, surprised at how hard it was to get out of Isobel's double bed with a real pillow and warm sheets. They were needed -- the heat didn't work terribly well in Isobel's quarters, and even with a body sharing the bed, Laura had been cold last night and it would have been unbearable without the extra sheets. But Isobel didn't seem to mind.

In fact, Isobel was explaining the business to Laura while stark naked and preparing for another day as the fleet's most profitable whoremaster, ebullient and enthusiastic and absolutely comfortable in her nudity.

"I'm shimmering today," Isobel said, slapping on lotion, balms, and frowning at her feet, which were clearly suffering from some kind of skin disorder. "I meet with some dealers and they think I'm an innocent, so I play on that."

All of the beauty products in Isobel's shower stall were luxurious, just as luxurious as the things Isobel slapped on to prep herself. Laura had boggled at them, after weeks of military-issue soap, before helping herself to liberal amounts, letting the smell of the shampoo and the feel of good face cream ease her anxieties briefly.

Isobel had terrible skin anyway, which she glared at. "One of these days, I'm fixing this," she said. "Anyway. You can take a shower and meet the girls after I go. There are six girls and the three boys, and I make ten. Well, plus the kids, but the kids are usually somewhere else. A couple of them are school-aged, I think. Maybe there's a school on this boat. I don't even know anymore. Taraja's been on my ass about that, but maybe you'd know?"

"Children?" Laura asked as Isobel turned her hair into curls and waves. "How many?"

"I think four. We had six, but then Alison left Ambrosia and took her two. You didn't think whores had kids or something?"

"No, I -- were they treated fairly?"

Isobel shrugged, pinning barrettes in her hair and aggressively posing for her mirror. "They're the children of whores, ma'am," she said. "What do you think?"

"They're children," Laura said. "They need to be treated as fairly as anyone else."

"And I'm sure when the important business is taken care of, they will be," Isobel answered cynically. "Until then, they get what they get, and at least they eat well and don't get hassled here."

Laura sat up as Isobel flounced back into the main part of the room and pulled out a bra and panties that vaguely matched. "That's not good enough," she said. "I promise you, Isobel..."

"Look, change the world if that's your thing," Isobel answered, finding a pair of blue jeans and a tank top. "I'm trying to keep the tide from drowning these girls. I'll believe you can reverse it when I see it."

_"I don't believe you," Lee says. "I don't think anything about this will compromise you. I think what's wrong is that you're afraid."_

_"Afraid," Laura says. "Of what?"_

_"Of being in love," Lee says. "Of us."_

She had been afraid. But not of love. Of losing control. Laura didn't know what would have happened, admitting that she was having an affair with Lee Adama. It was a great big unknown.

And Laura didn't like the unknown. She always had plans, backup plans, escape routes.

Now here she was, listening to a woman who was possibly younger than Lee, almost thirty years her junior, with more weariness and cynicism in her voice than Laura could bear. Telling her that the children weren't a priority.

Laura Roslin knew herself to be lost and afraid at that moment, and it was all she could do to keep herself from crying.

"Things will change," Laura heard herself say in a shaky voice.

"They always do," Isobel answered. "Kimba's the one you should talk to first. She's been here the longest, and she's a believer. You go from there, ma'am. Good luck."

With that, the young woman pulled on a jacket and walked out of the office, leaving Laura alone with her grief and resolve.

* * *

_"There will be peace!" Baltar announced over the wireless, sounding smug. "There shall be peace between Colonial and Cylon, at long last. We will be brought together in our peace, in our worship of the one true God the Cylon reveals to us, in our shared sacrifices..."_

_The doors to the pilots' racks flew open, as another Sharon Valerii, three Centurions, and a tall black man walked in. "Thrace. Katraine. Costanza. Birch," the man said. "You've been selected to secure the peace."_

_I couldn't do anything. None of us could do anything, and Kara stood there, looking the man in the face._

_"Hey, Simon," she said. "Miss me?"_

_"You're going to make a wonderful mother," he said. "Is Apollo here?"_

_I looked at him. "That's me."_

_"You're close to Petty Officer Dualla, I've heard," he said. "I thought it important you know that she and your father are among our honored guests."_

_"Frak you," I said. "You can take them, but you're not going to win."_

_"We've already won," Sharon said, smiling. "The first hybrid's been born, Baltar has agreed to peace under our terms, and tonight, we're going to arrest Roslin -- after a few prisoner executions -- if she doesn't agree to step down peacefully."_

_"And then what?" I asked._

_"We'll tell you when you need to know," Simon said. "Gas this lot."_

_The air went fuzzy. When I woke up, everyone I loved was gone._

_Except Laura. I didn't know that I loved her so much, anyway._

Everyone, as far as Lee could see, was cooperating with the Cylon peace plan. Overtly, anyway. There were no complaints, no rebellions, no riots. Life was going on, and some people were even discussing resettling on the planet where five thousand Colonials were being held, including the great Admiral Adama.

And yet the obedience wasn't enough for the Cylons. They kept pushing.

They kept pushing. Like today's little incident, which involved the woman who ran most of the whores in the fleet. Nice girl, from all accounts, and smart -- Izzie Mendes, that was the name. The picture showed a tall girl with intense eyes and curly hair. She was due to meet with some dealers, all of whom had turned collaborator under pressure.

It was a trap, and Lee was there to see if the Mendes girl could lead him anywhere. There were thirteen days left. The number gnawed at his gut.

"Little Izzie," said the chief collaborator, a scumbag named Reyes, greeting the girl with a hug and the best chair at the table. "How's the trim at Ambrosia this week?"

"Too expensive for you," Mendes said. She was alert, and Lee could see she was suspicious. Possibly she even knew it was a trap, but she didn't move. "What, are all the dealers in the galaxy having a sit-down? Any particular reason you got me along?"

"There are things that we need to discuss with you, Izzie," said the second man, Hargalan Wetu. He looked the woman over like she was meat. "You know these are difficult days. Everyone's got new masters to please. Things change."

"They always do," Izzie said. "What's changing?"

"There's no more charge for us running our product through Ambrosia, that's the change," Reyes said. "In fact, we're thinking you should be paying us for that privilege."

Izzie stood up and laughed, tossing her head contemptuously. "Oh? Well, you know, we don't need your product at Ambrosia, so frak off," she said. "You gentlemen have a nice day."

"I think you misunderstand," said the smallest of the men, Ben Loring. He was the quiet one, the one who gave Lee the chills, and Mendes clearly felt the same way. "You don't have a choice, Miss Mendes."

"And why's that?" Izzie asked, looking around and clearly sizing up whether or not she could get away clean from the conference room.

Lee decided it was time to stop toying with the woman, who was probably armed, and as much as he despised his 'friends' in this little deal, knew he didn't want to see her die taking a few of them out.

"Under the orders of the Baltar Administration," Lee said, stepping out from the room he'd been waiting in. "We believe your enterprise is violating rules of the black market. So we're re-evaluating your bar, Miss Mendes."

Izzie looked at him. "Oh, for frak's sake," she said, sitting down again and sneering. "Captain Adama, yeah?"

"You know my name," Lee said. "Good."

"I know what the toasters want," Izzie said. "And it's not a cut of my profits. So why don't you cut the crap, get this asshole out of my face, and tell me what deal I can cut, huh? I might even know something about the Roslin woman if you do."

Lee nodded to Reyes, who immediately put his hands on Mendes. "You either know something or you don't, little Izzie," Reyes said, squeezing her throat. "How's Kimba doing?"

Mendes started struggling. "You stay away from Kimba, you frakking rapist cocksucker," she hissed, her fingernails sinking into Reyes's hands. "She almost died."

"She was a tight fit, yeah," Reyes said. "Best pussy I ever had."

Glaring, Mendes turned her head as best she could toward Lee, who watched carefully. He wasn't about to let Reyes really hurt her, but he wasn't going to get lied to by a pimp, either.

"I don't know where she is, but I know she was in Ambrosia last night," Mendes choked out. "She's looking for places to hide. Trading anything she can. Probably...get your frakking hand off my throat, frakwad...turning tricks herself."

Lee glared at Reyes, who let go and smirked at Mendes. "She was in Ambrosia and you didn't alert the authorities?" he asked.

"Didn't know it was a crime not to inform on free citizens," Mendes said. "What, you sad cuz your girl don't love you no more, choad?"

Loring stepped in and hit the woman hard, and when her head snapped back, Lee could see the trickle of blood down her cheek. She spat at Loring, who slapped her again, leaving a matching mark on her other cheek.

"You tell me where she went or I'll shut your ass down, Mendes," Lee said. "Give your girls to the nice guys here. You don't want that, do you?"

Mendes looked at him with incredible disgust. "You'd give women to these frakking pigs, you gutless son of a whore?" she asked. "Frak you. I saw her at the beginning of my act. I put her out of the bar myself. Your woman's looking ragged around the edges, Adama. Didn't even put up a fight when I told her where to go with her holy act."

She was telling the truth, Lee realized. A woman like this was looking out for hers, and definitely wasn't interested in a political fight. Besides, it looked like Mendes's enemies had set her up to get hold on her prostitutes -- not surprising, but Lee felt conned.

"You see her again, you tell her to turn herself in," Lee said, trying to feel anything except sick. "Tell her -- tell her she's better off dead than hiding. Her people are better off."

"Frak you, asshole," Mendes said. "We're better off under this toaster-licking Baltar prick than under Roslin? Frak you."

Lee nodded to Reyes, who slugged Mendes so hard she felt out of her chair, groaning as she hit the floor.

"Let's not speak calumny against the president," Lee said. "I thank you for your testimony, Miss Mendes. And of course, you're quite right -- these gentlemen will not be changing the terms of their agreement with you. However, there will be inspections of your bar nightly. If you're lying..."

"Then I'm out an airlock," Mendes said, spitting and pressing a hand to her rapidly swelling cheek and eye. "I get it."

"Good," Lee said. "Tell her, if you see her."

"Tell her yourself," Mendes said. "Asshole."

* * *

When Isobel staggered back into her ironically-named 'executive suite' on Ambrosia, half of the room was clean. And she meant clean -- cleaner than when she'd usurped the room from a pimp named Art who'd kept the girls high, charged 'em for it, and made sure they were on the floor eighteen hours a day, regardless of condition.

_"Phalen's dead," Shavon says, her arms around Paya as she tells Isobel everything. Everyone tells Isobel things. "Adama's son shot him in front of everyone and dictated the rules of the black market like he was running things."_

_"And Adama's gonna stand for that? Or the president?" Isobel asks incredulously. At the time, she's the unofficial nurse and confidante for the prostitutes of the fleet, because she's a tribade and doesn't frak men. Or at least, everyone is pretty sure she is; Izzie doesn't talk about it._

_"Please. Adama's son and the president were lovers," Shavon says. "I'm pretty sure, anyway. He talks in his sleep, like everyone these days. And he used her name. Laura, Laura. Worse than the other girls he's always talking about."_

_"So you're screwing the president's boyfriend?" Isobel asks. "Lucky you."_

_"Please. They were broken up before I touched him," Shavon says. "And Phalen's dead, so I'm not screwing Lee anymore. Too much frakking baggage."_

_Isobel laughs. "So there's an opening for a pimp with slightly more intelligent policies than Phalen, huh?" she asks._

_"I guess," Shavon says. "Why? You looking to move up the ladder, Izzie?"_

_"Couldn't be worse than what I do now," Isobel says. "And everyone likes me, don't they?"_

The bed, where Izzie wanted to curl up and cry, was covered with various goods that had littered the floor of the room, as though whoever had decided to clean the room -- obviously Roslin -- had gotten busy with something else.

"What the FRAK, gods damn it!" Isobel screamed. "Why is my bed covered in shit? Where the frak are people? Frakking hell, this is a club, isn't it, not a gods damn daycare!"

Roslin's head poked through the door. She had Taraja's new one on her hip, and a pen behind her ear. "Oh, gods, Isobel," she said, taking in Izzie's condition. "What happened?"

"Your ex-boyfriend's a real frakking gentlemen, let me tell you," Isobel said, slumping to the floor. "He set me up. He's looking for you, and he figured beating hell out of me might scare the underworld."

Laura nodded, walking in with the baby, grimacing at the mess on the bed. "I'm so sorry. Taraja's got a line on a way to get Billy in and out of here, but she needed me to watch Ezra while she did, so I had to stop cleaning to do it."

Ezra shrieked and hid his face against Laura's shoulder. The ex-president was wearing a john's discarded shirt tied cunningly to highlight that Roslin was, in fact, female, as well as a long skirt that might have fit Kimba at one point, and she was barefoot.

Isobel, aching and distracted, thought she looked nice.

"He doesn't like me," Izzie explained, pointing at Ezra. "I take his mom away."

"You don't mind that I was cleaning up, do you?" Laura asked, setting Ezra down next to Isobel and going for the drawer of her vanity that had the medical supplies. Izzie noted with a snort that the supplies had been reorganized and the vanity was gleaming. "I thought to help out."

"I don't mind messy. Pimps always like a clean room. Like whores are housewives, you know? A neat room for a john to come visit while he's getting his nut," Isobel said.

"This isn't a crib," Laura pointed out. "You run a significant part of the fleet from these quarters, and I couldn't sit still. I didn't realize how much I do until I didn't have anything to do."

Isobel laughed bitterly. "Your boyfriend says you should turn yourself in. For the good of your people," she said. "That was before he had a dealer knock me to the floor. He's going to be in here, Laura. He's going to bring people. And I...look, I seen that look in eyes before."

She didn't know how to explain it. When they'd gotten rid of Art, they'd done it, not because they felt good about it, not because he was a walking cesspool of a man, but because he'd had that look in his eyes. That look that told Isobel that if he didn't end up dead and fast, she was going to be the one floating in space, along with Taraja's baby.

Ezra was alive because his daddy was dead. Because Izzie had known the look in his eyes and shot him before his hand could twitch.

And Isobel had seen that Adama boy's face when he talked about Roslin needing to give herself in. He was preparing himself to walk up to someone he'd cared about and shoot her dead.

"So what should I do?" Laura asked, applying salve to Izzie's sore and scabbed face. "If you want me to leave, I'll understand."

"Before I met up with him, I might have asked you to move on, you know," Isobel said. "But frak that. You're staying right here. I don't let men who'd endanger every bit of trim in the fleet tell me what to do. You got support, and I can help rally it. So you do whatever you want, and I'll back you."

And she wasn't about to tell Laura, who nodded solemnly and finished ministering to Izzie's face just as Taraja ran in and said that Billy could come tonight, and that he missed Laura? But she was going to back Laura by making sure that the moment Lee Adama walked up to his woman and thought to end her life, Izzie would be there first.

Hand on her gun.

Cocksucker thought he could treat a woman like that? Any woman? Not a frakking chance.

 


	3. Chapter Three: The Way of Revolution

"Continue to fight, continue to hope, continue to resist," Laura Roslin's voice called out over the wireless, sounding more impassioned than usual. "To those still imprisoned in the prison the Cylons claim is no prison -- we continually think of you, pray for you, fight for you. To those who fear the Cylons, the day will come when we overcome. The people of the Colonies will not be defeated, except in their own fear. So resist. Fight. Hope."

Gina's expression was sheer rage, bordering on homicidal mania. Lee glanced over at President Baltar, who was practically trying to fold in on himself, at Tom Zarek, who was nodding, and at Tigh, who was listening impassively.

"Where is she? Where the **frak** is she?" Gina asked as the message began to repeat. "God help you all if I find out you've been assisting this terrorist's madness."

"With all due respect," Zarek said. "Roslin is exceptionally good at maneuver. The fact that every man of us in this room has been complicit to her maneuvering is proof of that. You can't expect miracles."

"She's causing resistance," Gina said. "Nothing overt, of course. Your people are just getting stupid. Lazy. Drunk."

"What should we do about that?" Baltar asked. "Demand everyone shape up and sell the woman out?"

Gina snorted and picked up a telephone, dialing a number and glaring at every man in the room. Lee couldn't help but think that perhaps the Cylon was in over her head.

"Kill a prisoner. I don't care who," Gina said. "Shoot it, cut off its head, and display it on a pole outside the gate. And then distribute the file widely throughout the fleet, letting Madam Roslin know that if she continues her illegal activities, there will be consequences."

"That goes against the peace agreement," Baltar protested. "Gina, darling..."

"So does that woman's activities," Gina snapped. "Darling."

Tigh waved his hand. "Hey, hey, hey now," he said, taking a swallow of whiskey. "Let's not get into a spat. Make me miss my wife and all."

"Do you have something to say, Colonel?" Baltar asked, relief and irritation in his voice.

"Sure I do," Tigh said, chortling. "I think it's time we admit if we want to track that woman down, we're going to need Vipers and Raptors to do it. People don't like these undercover guys. Think they're shady, out to steal. People see a uniform, they're gonna cooperate."

Lee blinked. Tigh was offering...a good plan. Gina looked similarly confused, and there was a half-smile on Zarek's face.

"That sounds like a fine idea, Colonel Tigh," Baltar said, fumbling with his glasses. "If our allies agree to allow the ban on Galactica's Vipers and Raptors moving in the fleet, of course."

"No, we agree, and further, you have our authority to shoot to kill that woman and destroy any haven that won't give her up," Gina said. "Anything to restore the peace, eh, gentlemen? Perhaps we can arrange for a conversation between yourself and Mrs. Tigh this evening, Colonel."

Tigh shook his head. "Save your bribes for some other time. We're all on the same page here," he said. "I don't think anyone should die just because that woman's got a martyr complex."

Gina smiled. "That's a good attitude to have, Colonel," she said. "Gentlemen, you're dismissed."

Tigh chuckled drunkenly as the four men, including the supposed supreme power of the Colonies, immediately got to their feet and filed into a Galactica corridor.

"Aren't you supposed to be president?" he asked Baltar. "Don't think Roslin would have let any woman order her out of a meeting, surrender or not."

Baltar glowered. "Are you questioning my authority, Colonel?"

"Depends. You planning on making me disappear?" Tigh asked.

"Hardly," Baltar said. Tigh snorted again, and Zarek raised a hand. "Vice President Zarek?"

"Tom," Zarek said for the eight hundredth time. "Gentlemen, is it just me, or do Roslin's activities worry the Cylon more than usual? Roslin's only one woman, after all. According to them and us, nothing special. So...why the paranoia?"

"She's a symbol," Lee said. "She's the only person who could possibly rally a successful resistance."

"Seems to me if we're trusting a half-Cylon cradle-robbing bitch to save us, we don't much deserve to be called men," Tigh said, slugging back more of his drink. "Especially as we're the ones hunting her down."

"For the good of humanity," Baltar said. "Let's not forget this. Laura Roslin, whatever her aims, just caused the death of an innocent with her inflammatory, useless nonsense."

Lee nodded to that, and the group broke off and dissolved into their duties, leaving Lee alone to lean against the nearest bulkhead. Thinking about how best to track Roslin (it was easier to think of Laura as Roslin now) when someone brushed against him.

"Whatever you agreed to do, don't do it," a soft voice said. Sharon.

"What?" Lee asked.

"Don't get involved with Gina's schemes," Sharon said. "Roslin's got to live, if any of us are going to survive."

"Is that some kind of sick joke?" Lee asked. "Are you testing me? I have eleven days before my family is killed. I'm going to carry out my mission."

"Your father wouldn't want you to do that for him," Sharon said. "And if you kill her? We're all doomed. Every last one of us."

She seemed to hear something and ran off, leaving Lee feeling sick and confused. What the frak was that now? One moment, everyone wanted Roslin to disappear, to be hunted down like a betraying rat. Now...now Cylons were turning against each other and Tigh was siding, however obliquely, with Laura.

Lee didn't have a choice. He was going to find her. And when he did, he was going to look her in the eye and shoot her down.

It was getting easier to accept every day.

* * *

The girls were getting silly. And the worst of the girls, as usual, was her one straight boy, Isobel thought as the music began to pump loudly onto the floor.

"REVOLUTION!" Tim screamed as a siren began to scream and the two girls on the stages -- Kimba and Sally Jo -- started matching each other's movements with eerie consistency.

The crowd was a bit different than usual. Rather than just the usual well-heeled or scummy tricks looking to get off via a lap dance or a discreet tryst in the back with the boys, there was a diversity -- people were drinking hard and when Tim had called for revolution, a good quarter of the crowd had screamed back the same word.

This was not, exactly, the safest secret political rally in process. Especially when Laura Roslin was not currently in Ambrosia or even on the ship -- the first of Tigh's Raptors had brought Billy to her and she was having an intense secret meeting with her aide and whoever the double agents in the Baltar administration were.

But the party was sparkling, and Izzie, still aching from the beating she'd taken at Lee Adama's hands, was feeling good about how fast resistance was mounting to Baltar's administration, how people were talking about the disappeared as prisoners rather than guests, and bracing themselves for the backlash.

"Are you afraid?" Isobel heard a girl ask one of Ambrosia's favorite regulars, a guy who apparently had access to the best fruit and chocolate in the fleet. "To die, you know. I mean, I thought I was? But not now. I'd rather die free than live a slave."

The guy smiled. "Guess there's worse things than death," he said.

"Like being afraid to think," the girl said. "So -- revolution?"

"Revolution," he said softly, leaning forward to kiss the girl. Isobel snorted -- opportunist -- and found herself leaning against the bar.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Isobel heard a man say. She turned, readying herself to fire, but at the sight of the Cylon, paused. "She's not even here -- she doesn't even know these people, and yet things are changing. Hope is rekindled."

"Leoben," she said.

"One of my names, yes," he said. "What's your role in the game, young lady?"

"I'm going to shoot the motherfrakker who hit me in the face," Isobel said without pausing. "Revolution."

Leoben nodded as though she'd said something deep. "I don't think you understand how dangerous the game is," he said. "You're not even sure Roslin's not a Cylon, and you're plotting revolution and murder at her command."

"I know she's not a Cylon," Isobel said confidently.

"How can you know? We don't even know," Leoben said. "Sometimes I think I've known her before. And then some days...poof. Smells as human as you do, little girl."

Isobel snorted. Gods, the profile on this guy was dead on. Liked to hear himself to talk, and said very little while he did it. "So what? You going to shut us down because we're part of this mythical resistance?" she asked. "Vent these people into space?"

Leoben smiled at Isobel, shaking his head and pouring himself a drink. "I like to watch your kind when they celebrate," he said. "This is not all that we are, of course. But at times like this, it would almost be nice to imagine the story wasn't already written. That things could change."

"They can," Isobel said. "They always do. It's only people who are obsessed with seeing patterns that scream that nothing ever changes."

"Interesting take on the universe," Leoben answered. "Wrong, but not entirely unpleasant. So is she here?"

"I don't know who you're talking about, toaster," Isobel said, looking at Kimba as she started to dance faster. "But she's not here. Maybe she never was."

"Maybe not," Leoben said, setting down his glass. "Revolution, Miss Mendes."

"Revolution," Isobel agreed.

* * *

The room stayed clean now. Laura was about ready to throw things and scream thanks to the information Tigh had sent her way, but she noticed that after that first day when she had tidied Isobel's filthy quarters, the place stayed clean.

"Bad?" Isobel asked, sitting in the one chair the room had, writing away on her pad.

"You've seen the pictures," Laura answered. "The Cylon, Gina, she wants me dead and she doesn't care how many people she kills to do it."

Izzie nodded. "Are you a Cylon?" she asked. "Would you even know?"

Laura looked at the girl. Sometimes, Isobel seemed ancient, a woman with more experience than Laura could imagine, and then she'd turn around and seem like a child, someone who could have been Laura's child.

"I don't know," Laura admitted, giving into the fear that had plagued her since her resurrection. "I don't think I am, but would any of us know? We haven't seen all the models, so it's possible I'm one of them."

Isobel nodded, looking vaguely displeased by that answer. "I got you in my house, and you're one of them frakking toasters? Zeus and Athena in a tangle, woman," she said, wrapping the sheet she was wearing over her clothes tighter. "What the hell?"

"I don't think I'm a Cylon," Laura said, taking her shoes off and lying down on the bed. "Considering Gina's out for my blood."

"Well, that Leoben guy was looking for you," Isobel said. "He was saying things. Confusing things, like he don't know if you're a Cylon or not. Then he told me revolution and took off. So pardon me, woman, if I'm a little suspicious at the moment."

Laura nodded, feeling drowsy and already bored of the subject. Not even tired, because after the tiredness of dying of cancer, this was nothing but a little drowsiness.

"Izzie," she said. "What were you, before you decided to become a pimp?"

"What?" was Izzie's sharp, surprised answer.

"You talk like a video version of a pimp," Laura said. "I don't think you were a sex worker before the Cylons came."

"Frak you," Izzie said. "You think just because I'm a girl, just because I'm a frakking tribade, I reinvented my ass as a pimp after the end of the world? What the frak kind of idea is that?"

"An idle one. Any truth to it?" Laura asked.

Isobel sighed. "Of course I wasn't a pimp," she said. "I repaired candy machines to pay for nursing school. Did a little massage therapy on the side. I was going to be someone once I got on my feet -- and I am. Maybe not a respectable someone, but here I am."

Laura nodded. "You're good at this," she said.

"I think so, even though it's frustrating," Izzie admitted. "What I really want? Is that I want them to be able to take care of themselves."

"I know exactly how you feel," Laura said, hand resting on her stomach. "That's what I want for the Colonial people, but I don't know if that's possible."

"Well, we've got one nuke aimed at our people in the guest camp, another aimed at Galactica, you might actually be a sleeper agent Cylon, and there's a price on your head," Isobel said. "You better hope that your revolution isn't just you, because nobody's that good on their own. Even you."

Laura nodded, her mind full of plans and the news she'd gotten from Billy. Galactica was willing to play ball, Zarek was proving as big an opportunist as she'd suspected, and if Leoben's visit to Isobel wasn't a mind game, it suggested the Cylons themselves were split over the course of action they were taking.

It hinged on Gina. The half-mad, desperate survivor of brutality, the one who had something to prove. Break her, and the Cylon occupation fell apart.

"You're thinking something," Isobel said, climbing into the bed next to Laura companionably. "Share."

"I was thinking this whole occupation, this whole false peace, it's really about me and Gina," Laura said. "Or about what Gina needs to prove to me."

"So what, you're going to go find this Gina and eliminate her?" Izzie said with a dry laugh. When the silence was long, her laugh stilled. "Oh. I see."

"I'm going to break her," Laura said, staring up at the ceiling. "And I almost feel bad about it."

 


	4. Chapter Four: The Way You Win

It had been eight days since Isobel had taken up with Laura Roslin, and she was richer, more powerful, and in more jeopardy than she'd been in her twenty-four years of life.

She was also madly in love with the woman, but if Roslin's recent history said anything, it was that everyone who spent time with the woman fell for her. And Isobel knew better than to make a pass at Roslin, who was no tribade, and too busy for it anyway.

"Starting tomorrow, Ambrosia's running nonstop," Isobel was telling Kimba, who was bent over a column or two of math problems Roslin had set the girl. "We got enough waitresses and dancers?"

"We're good, Izzie," Kimba said. "Six plus nine is fifteen, right?"

"Yep," Izzie said.

"So that means twenty-six plus nineteen is fifteen, so five carry the one -- one plus two plus one is four, so forty-five. Yep?"

"Very good," Laura said, walking into the room. "You're picking up fast, Kimba."

"I learned all this when I was a kid, but I forget it sometimes. You're good at helping me remember," Kimba said. "Ooh, I like your outfit."

Isobel knew by Laura's expression that the other woman was dubious about her like of the outfit, which had been custom-tailored for Roslin. But Isobel had to admit she liked it, too. Especially whoever had found the wine-colored blouse under the black suit.

"It's very chic," Isobel said.

"It's very fitted," Laura said.

"It suits you," Isobel said. "I mean, honestly, you're up against that skinny blonde toaster acting like she's Mistress Anybody. You had to step up. We're all following your lead, and you look the part."

Laura snorted. "I'm older and softer than Gina," she said. "Next you'll be telling me I should wear jeans and tank tops like you, Izzie."

"We could get you a hat with a feather," Kimba said. "Also, twenty-nine plus forty-seven is seventy-six? So is twenty-nine forty plus forty-seven oh-one seventy-six forty one, then?"

"Exactly right," Laura said.

"Frakker dicked me out of seven cubits and a tip," Kimba growled. "Bastard. I'm glad I picked his pocket now."

Isobel laughed. "What bastard now?" she asked.

"Oh, you know that one, the Cylon calls himself Simon," Kimba said. "I was giving him a dance last night and he was telling me that I'd be a good mom, and I told him that I was a private dancer, and I'd heard all the trifling bullshit guys like him could offer."

"And what did he say?" Laura asked, looking at Isobel, who'd gotten just as tense as Laura.

"He told me that he'd come back for a pretty girl like me, once things settled down," Kimba said. "If I wanted I could meet him out front tonight and we'd go for a ride. They talk just like johns. Like..." and Isobel remembered that Reyes had talked to Kimba like that and left her for dead. "They're all the same. Cylon dick, human dick, it's all crap."

"Did he tell you when things would settle down?" Laura asked, her voice calm and her eyes wild.

"No. I was dancing and he was talking shit, the way they do," Kimba said. "Why? Should I have asked?"

"No," Laura said. "But if he comes back tonight, can you be friendly with him for me?"

Kimba looked up at Isobel, who nodded curtly. "Don't leave with him, no matter what," Isobel said. "But yeah. Be nice. Be yourself."

"Okay, Izzie," Kimba said, nodding. Izzie wanted to tell her not to be so damned trusting. Laura was entirely right -- they could use the guy for information, even knowing that he was a lure.

Besides, Isobel was about ready to talk to the Cylons about why they were so damn hot and bothered about Roslin themselves. And if they were as afraid of Gina as the people of the fleet were, and maybe, just maybe, if everyone wanted Laura and Gina to fight it out amongst themselves somewhere it wouldn't hurt so many others.

Izzie had learned a lot from Laura, and one of the things she'd learned was no one was worth too many lives, and it was the survival of the Colonial people -- not any one Colonial -- and the hope of a better world was what was important.

Laura would probably be proud of her, Isobel thought, watching her friend. Plotting murder if it was necessary to win; it seemed her style.

* * *

Billy was bringing Sharon to her tonight. It would be the first time since she'd hit the ground running that Laura was letting her face be seen in the same location twice.

The plan was so simple that not even Laura could understand it. Sharon -- a faction of the Cylons believed Laura was the only thing standing between the Cylons and destruction, let alone humanity. They were very heavily opposed by Gina's faction, who was going to use humanity as they saw fit and end the rest as inferiors.

Gina had people trying to track her down, probably execute her for "treason" against both the Colonies and the Cylons. However, no one seemed very interested in finding her, even with the young man's head slowly rotting outside the prison camp.

Moreover, and this was Tigh's contribution, if they had to, the fleet would sacrifice Pegasus to get their people out of the camps. Everyone was gearing up for a rescue mission, but they were trying to make it as painless as possible.

That's where the Cylon girl came in. Laura didn't need Sharon -- didn't trust her, either, even knowing that it was because of Sharon and her daughter that Laura was alive.

But besides the possibility she could save more lives, Laura wanted to destroy the Cylon unity. Sow dissension. Start a civil war, and in the break between Sharon and Gina, Laura had a real chance at that.

"So," said Isobel, breaking Laura's reverie. "My bar is crawling with Cylons, snitches, and the usual scum. You ready to work the floor?"

"You make it sound like I'm about to dance," Laura said.

"Well, it's sort of like that," Isobel answered. "I mean, politics is a performance, too. I always, I don't know. This is crazy, but I always think I'm about to dance when I go to meet with my competition. And I remember no one can work it like I can, and then I'm not afraid."

Laura nodded. "If I get out of this alive," and she paused. "How old are you, Izzie?"

"Twenty-four," she said.

"Gods," Laura said. "I was going to ask if you wanted to be my vice-president, but you're only a little older than Billy."

Isobel laughed. "I'm no politician."

"You're an amazingly good leader," Laura replied, shaking her head. "And I'm serious. If I get out of this alive, I want you to work for me."

"Well, that's fine," Isobel said, laughing again. "Of course, you could always come work for me. My profession's always hiring."

Laura smiled painfully. "I'm well aware," she said. "But as you say: things always change."

Izzie shook her head. "No, people tell me about change. What I say is, 'They always do,'" she said with a grin. "More in response to things than to change."

"So if I said, 'no matter what else, things are about to get very messy,'" Laura began.

"They always do," Izzie said. "But you'll be able to handle it."

"That's my job," Laura said, frowning as they walked toward the stage door. "Dancing, right?"

"Why else do you think I come in on the same song every night?" Izzie asked. "Everything's a performance, and I know how to give them a show."

* * *

Ambrosia was where the underworld players made their bones, or at least, that was what Shavon told Lee. It was blaring music, that was for sure, and he'd seen at least three Cylons and two Quorum members chasing around girls.

Gods, he kept half-expecting to see Shavon working the crowd, and Lee wasn't sure if that hurt or not.

Mendes wasn't on stage yet -- she was apparently the star attraction -- but two pretty women were grinding to a raw, almost-musical sound that Lee wasn't about to call music. She wasn't behind the bar, either.

Then again, Lee wasn't looking for Mendes, though he was looking out for her.

"Are you lonesome tonight, mister?" someone asked into his ear.

"No," Lee said. "I'm looking for someone."

"We're all looking for that special someone," the woman said in a low, husky voice that was almost familiar but totally alien. "Seek and ye shall find, right?"

A long, black-clad arm with one manicured fingernail pointed toward a darker corner of the nightclub, where Lee could make out the tall, awkward shape of Billy Keikeya.

"Who are you?" Lee asked.

"Someone who expects to be remembered later," she said softly. "Revolution."

"Revolution," Lee answered dryly.

The woman pulled away before Lee could get a good look at her -- all he remembered was that she was wearing a black jacket and a pretty short skirt, and that she had the legs to carry it off. In the indifferent lighting of the nightclub, he could tell her hair was done nicely but not its color. Dark.

But she wasn't who he was after, was she?

Lee ran after Billy, who was almost out of the club before Lee got hold of him. "Where's the president?" he asked, slamming Billy against a door.

"I imagine he's on Galactica, sir," Billy said sarcastically. "Or did you mean Laura, Captain Adama? Who you made sure wasn't the president anymore."

"You know who I mean," Lee said.

"You know I won't tell you," Billy said.

"Even if it means they shoot Dee in the head?" Lee asked tensely. "Would you like her to be the next example?"

"It's not going to stop, even if you find her," Billy hissed, pushing back against Lee. "They'll find excuses. They want us all dead. Or...breeding animals. So if you're going to shoot me, Captain, do it now, because I won't tell you where she is."

"You know what Gina will do to you if I have to bring you to Galactica, don't you?" Lee asked.

"Sh-sh-shoot me. I'll make you shoot me first," Billy said, every word terrified and trembling. "Don't take me in, Lee."

"Tell me where she is, Billy," Lee said.

"No," Billy said, voice still shaking.

"Don't make me do this, Billy," Lee said, pulling out his service weapon. "I don't want to do this."

Billy looked Lee straight in the eye and shook his head. He didn't say anything more, he just stood there, waiting. Looking scared as hell, but resolved, and clearly meaning it. He'd die before he gave Roslin up, and he wouldn't let Lee turn him over to Gina and a death worse than any Lee could give him.

"Then don't do it," a familiar voice said behind him. "Captain Apollo."

Lee turned slowly. There she was, wearing the outfit -- gods, she **had** been the one in the nightclub, sending him after Billy in the first place to get the drop on Lee now.

Laura looked good. Tired. A little uncomfortable in the provocative outfit she was wearing. But good.

And unarmed.

"Laura," Lee said, aiming the weapon at her forehead.

"Miss Roslin to you, Captain," she answered, looking down the barrel of the gun without the slightest tremble of fear. "How have you been?"

"Better," Lee said. "You?"

"Worse," Laura answered. "What's your plan, Captain Apollo? Are you going to pull the trigger? Even when you've been warned off by everyone, are you going to make a martyr of me?"

Lee didn't move the gun. "I'm going to eliminate a threat to everyone," he said.

"Try it," a third voice added. "I'll blow your head off right the frak now, Apollo."

Of all people, frakking Boomer was standing there, her gun aimed at Lee's head.

She did not look happy.

"And I'll help," Mendes added, walking up from the other direction, her gun out and cocked.

"You think if you shoot me, it'll save her life?" Lee asked. "We're at point blank range here."

Laura took two steps forward and put her hand on Lee's gun, pulling it against her chest. Against her heart, Lee assumed. Her eyes met his, still unafraid.

She was telling him yes, do it.

"What the frak are you doing?" Mendes shouted.

"Cheating Gina out of a victory," Laura said. "Come on, Lee. Do it."

Damn it. Damn her.

Lee lowered his weapon. "No," he said. "At least not until you tell me why."

 


	5. Chapter Five: The Way to Lose

She had really been hoping he'd kill her. It would have been simpler. Cleaner. A shot through the heart would have woken Lee up, though given the looks on Isobel and Sharon's faces, he probably wouldn't have long outlasted her, and they needed him.

So there they were. Billy, Lee, Isobel, and Sharon, all closeted in Isobel's very cold room, staring at each other. Ambrosia was boiling over with fervor, and Laura was half-certain there was going to be a riot once Izzie went on in half an hour.

"It's in the prophecies. You can't die. You have to get us to Earth," Sharon said. "Your role in this matters."

"I gave you the map. And according to your prophecies, I have to die," Laura said. "I don't understand why you're trying to help me, young woman."

The Cylon glared. "Because there's something important about you," she said. "We all feel it. You're not human, but you're not a Cylon. And my baby saved you, so I feel particularly close to you. Whoever you are, whatever you are, I know you have to live. Everyone does."

"So why is Gina threatening Lee with the death of his family and his girlfriend?" Laura asked.

"She's afraid of you," Sharon said. "I'm afraid of you, too. You're not like the other humans, even though you are human."

Izzie laughed. "You clowns really can't keep your rhetoric straight, can you?" she asked. "One week she's human, next she's not. Pick a side, toaster."

"Shut up," Sharon said. "It's not about sides."

"Frak you," Izzie said. "It's easy to play both sides against the middle when you don't have anything to lose."

"I have a daughter," Sharon replied. "What do you have? A pack of whores?"

Isobel snarled and subsided, her eyes on Lee. Laura wished she'd stop glaring at him, but then again, Laura had the distinct feeling that Isobel would kill Lee if he got too twitchy.

"Miss Mendes is a trusted aide," Laura interjected. "Please be polite to her."

"All right," Sharon said. "So what's with the sudden desire to die?"

"It's not a sudden desire. Nor do I particularly WANT to die. There's a difference between needing to sacrifice a pawn for the big picture and wanting to die," Laura said. "But I'm the pawn, and my death is going to be a coup for whoever engineers it."

"That's frakking morbid," Lee said. "So why did you let Baltar bring you back if that's how you feel?"

"I didn't let anyone do anything, remember? Oh, that's right, you weren't present," Laura said viciously.

"Are we going to argue about this now?" Lee asked.

"No," Laura said, looking at the rest of the room. "What we're going to argue about is what you think is going to happen now. Nothing's changed. Lee's on a deadline, Gina's out for blood, and there are nuclear weapons aimed at our people on the planet and at Galactica."

"And those things change **so** much with you dead," Izzie said sarcastically. "No offense, but your death wish is idiotic and misplaced, Laura. I get your drift -- you think it'll be the thing that gets the people to fight, that it's the minimum number of deaths that can occur, but it's too dicey."

Every last eye in the room was now focused on Isobel, who squirmed. Laura smiled.

"Come up with a better plan," she said. "I'm ready to hear one."

"You've got Tigh," Izzie said. "You have this cocksucker" -- another sneer at Lee -- "And you have the toaster here and that Leoben guy working for you behind the curtain. And basically, isn't what we're trying to do get our people off the planet and go?"

"That and we've got dozens of Cylons crawling over our ships," Lee said. "Who will fight us tooth and nail. With Centurions."

Isobel nodded, biting on her finger absently as her eyes practically crossed in thought. "Distraction," she said. "We need a big distraction, one that will draw everyone else, divide and conquer kind of thing. Basically, you need Gina off Galactica with her forces behind her."

"Dying was going to do that," Laura said.

"No. Dying fits Gina's plans," Izzie answered. "She probably expects, even, that whoever saw Lee kill you would kill Lee, and if not, she'd probably kill that girl Lee's so hot about because you killed a free Colonial. Or just because she doesn't like you."

"So what?" Billy asked. "You sound like you've got a plan."

"I do," Isobel said. "I think I'm going to cause a riot."

"Oh," Billy said. "Tonight?"

"Ambrosia's too small," Isobel said, shrugging. "Where's the next presidential rally? And when?"

"Three days. Rising Star," Lee said.

"Good," Isobel said. "I do have a plan. It's not a very good plan, what with me being a small-time pimp among players, but I figure you experts can polish it up and then Laura here doesn't have to die after all. And you know, I think that would be a good thing."

Laura looked at the woman, who was fidgeting hard. It never failed to amaze her, how humanity could find its strength in moments when all hope was lost.

So, even knowing that Izzie was ready to die for the cause when she shouldn't, Laura smiled. "So you're serious about this revolution, then?" she asked, trying to keep a teasing tone in her voice.

"Deadly serious," Isobel answered. "You?"

"Whatever it takes," Laura said.

* * *

Nothing ever changed. Lee had been here before, helping Laura in the darkest hour, choosing his side even when he didn't want to choose any side, blah blah blah, forever and ever, so said they all.

Riots this time. Next time he'd be ready to pull the trigger for her. What was that the scriptures said? All this has happened before and all this will happen again.

Whatever caused him to be entangled with this woman, he wanted it to stop already.

"You could have pulled the trigger," said Laura.

"Did I say something?" Lee asked. He'd decided to accompany her to the rally/riot on Rising Star, because if it went wrong, well? He was going to die with the last person in the fleet he gave a damn about. Even if that damn was mostly hate.

"I can hear what you're thinking," she answered.

"Neat trick," Lee said. "Who do you think your charisma will kill this time, Madam President?"

"I don't know," she said. "Shall we place bets, Captain? Or do we draw the line at the odds on Isobel or Gina surviving the night?"

Lee didn't have anything to say to that. He had been thinking, in fact, if either of those two made it out alive, it would be a frakking miracle. Also, he was pretty sure that the people in the internment camp were all dead already. He kept having nightmares, thinking of presenting Gina with Laura's head and being laughed at as she showed him how all the prisoners had been shot to death their first night on the planet.

"Do you think my father's still alive?" he asked. "Or do you think this was all an elaborate trick to keep us docile long enough to, I don't know. Weed out the best potential breeders while we tore ourselves apart."

Laura was very quiet for a very long moment. "I don't know," she said. "I thought I was the only one who had considered that possibility."

He snorted. "Aren't we cheerful," Lee said. "What do we do, if that's the truth?"

"We mourn our dead and keep going," Laura said. "I don't know, Lee. I don't have a plan. I planned to be dead now, and something goes out of its way to keep me alive. Hope is always lost, and then a vending machine repairwoman turned pimp turns out to be the best strategist I've met since Adar."

"The gods are with you," Lee said ironically. "Right?"

"Is that the only option?" Laura asked as they reached one of the entrances to the packed-full ballroom. "Maybe it's that it's only when we're truly needed that we become heroes. But I'm not denigrating the help of the gods, either. For example."

She waved her hand. No guards at either entrance.

"The gods?"

"The gods lift those who lift each other," Laura said, crossing the boundary into the rally. "Isobel's girls took care of it."

Lee nodded as they joined the crowd. A few people looked his way, eyes wide, but nobody said anything as Laura Roslin insinuated herself among her people, waiting for Baltar and Gina to arrive.

"You believe in her, don't you?" Lee asked.

"She's amazing," Laura said with a smile. "She'll surprise us all yet."

The air was alive, the people around them were electric, and Lee Adama was ready to die tonight if he had to. To save the woman standing next to him. To save the people around him.

And it didn't feel like wanting to die at all. It felt like wanting to live. To keep going, whether he kept going as himself, as Lee, or if he lived on in memories and other people.

No wonder she wasn't afraid.

Lee lifted his head. He was ready.

* * *

It was gonna be Isobel's greatest performance. The biggest crowd, for sure, and even though she didn't have the right song, or the right outfit, and even without being able to actually dance, it was going to be the greatest.

Possibly also the last. But Isobel didn't plan to die. Dying could be for everyone else, because dying was not anything Isobel wanted to do today.

Everything was in her head. It was possible that Cylon programming would frak up the toaster standing next to her, Sharon. It was possible that everyone was a triple agent and they'd shoot her when they saw her. It was possible Gina wouldn't come with Baltar, though that would be a first.

Isobel was ready. She knew when to run, she knew when to fight, she knew when to beg for mercy and then run.

"You are twitchy," the Cylon hissed at her. "What's in your head?"

Isobel smiled, showing all her teeth, and started humming the song in her head as she tapped out the beat on her thighs. If she were dancing right now, if she was making a deal with scum like Reyes, she'd be in motion now.

"I'm planning not to die today," Isobel said.

"Yeah? I have a family waiting for me," the Cylon replied.

"Yeah? Well, good for you," Izzie said, when the crowd started to roar. "All right. You ready?"

"More ready than you, twitchy," said the Cylon.

"You think just because I'm twitchy," and Isobel began to step-pivot-turn, "I'm not ready?"

She was standing in front of the Cylon, fingertips touching its forehead. It looked at her and nodded.

"You believe in her, don't you?" it asked. "Enough to do this."

"Don't you?" Izzie asked. It looked away. "Frak yeah, I do. So do you. So does Lee, even though he doesn't want to. So why don't you stop frakking gaming me and let's do it."

"All right," the Cylon said after a brief silence. "If I don't make it, and you do, will you tell my daughter about this? About why I did it?"

Isobel had about a thousand smart remarks for that statement. What she said instead was, "I can do that."

Thinking that if they didn't make it, there wasn't going to be any kind of a future for any daughters, and that there wasn't anything they could do but succeed, really.

Isobel was going to dance.

She didn't plan on dying, either.

"Citizens," Gaius Baltar's voice called over the public address system. "As your president..."

One shot. Take cover.

Isobel wasn't going to die today. Not even a little.

"President?" Roslin's voice called. "Not from where I'm standing."

One shot. Take cover.

Isobel wasn't going to die today. Not even a little.

One shot. Take cover.

"Revolution," Isobel prayed, her heart giving her a beat.

She was on.

 


	6. Chapter Six: The Way It Ends

_I make my shot._

(I can dance, I can dance, I can fly, I can do this.)

I am going to tell the Cylon's daughter about this someday.

(Look how high I can leap! Look how fast I can go!)

And then I fall.

(It hurts, it's cold, it's hot, and I'm falling so fast, nobody ever told me it would be so fast.)

Everything goes black.

* * *

She makes her shot.

And she goes down.

Which is, really, what Lee expected. He didn't quite expect Boomer to go down as easy as she did, but he knows with a twist of his gut that he always expected Mendes to go down during this fight.

What he doesn't expect is himself, or Laura.

Laura's staring at Izzie's trajectory and Lee doesn't exactly blame her, because it's damn near impossible for her to do what she did, leap so fast after her shot that it looks like she did the shot in midair, but if the girl had had any damn sense, she'd have stayed where she was and ducked.

Lee is not going to let someone, especially not Baltar, get a shot in at Laura, not now.

He knocks them both to the floor while the shots ring out around them. Laura fights him on the way down, her hands balled into fists.

"Let me go!" she shrieks, her face soaked with tears. "Lee!"

He cannot deal with her like this, even though he understands that it's killing her, knowing that she can't accept that Isobel's death was the only way this could end.

Laura's still under the impression she can make a martyr of herself, and Lee won't let her do that.

It's not going to bring that girl back. Or Boomer. Or any of the prisoners, because Lee's pretty sure they're all dead, and even if they're not, none of them needs Laura to die for them today.

"No," he says, wondering how he can get this all across, wake her up, get her moving. "You made your choice. You have to live with it."

He gets up. Offers her a hand, and when she spurns it, turns to the crowd, which is hysterical but no longer firing.

And just like that, Lee knows what he's doing, he knows what he's going to do, and he knows that they're going to win today, and that whether his father is alive, or if they have to talk about this day in Elysium, it will be remembered.

"We have to STAND AND FIGHT!" he bellows, turning the crowd his way as Laura pulls herself up. "They are going to be on their way, and we have to delay them so that Galactica can take out the nuke and get to our people on the planet. Get ready to fight! For freedom! For our prophet, for our people, for our democracy!"

The crowd roars, and Lee feels the panic turn to hope. He wonders if this is what Laura feels when people look at her and become their best selves for her, this strange mix of hope and power and inevitability.

He doesn't look to see what Laura's doing. He knows she'll pull herself together -- she always does -- and he is going to pull these people together.

His father is going to be proud of him. And Kara.

And Dee. Gods, Dee. Lee, knowing it's a foolish hope, knows she's alive, and cannot wait to see her now, to tell her where he was, what he was doing, the day the Colonial people stood and fight and won against the occupier.

This day is going to be remembered forever.

The sound of the Cylon security forces are loud against the door, and the crowd is breathing as one, waiting.

Lee allows himself to turn his head for just a second, and sure enough, Laura is on the stage, standing there as boldly as he's ever seen her.

She's ready.

So is he.

* * *

She makes her shot.

Like a bird in mid-air, Isobel leaps to finish the job when Gina's only winged by the Valerii girl and one of the human guards Baltar has surrounding him drops her like she was so much replaceable garbage.

Isobel laughs (she laughed, Lords of Kobol, why is it her fate to watch them all die? can she ever wash the blood off her hands?) and she flies.

Laura swears that she flew through the air, the shot ringing out like a prayer, and before Laura can do something to save her, Lee's knocked them both to the ground.

"Let me go!" Laura shouts. Not this time. Isobel needs to live. She's not ready to die, she shouldn't die, and Laura needs her. "Lee!"

"No," Lee says, holding her down while chaos roars around them. "You made your choice. You have to live with it."

He's on his feet then, with all the arrogance and ease of youth. "Stand and fight!" he's yelling, and Laura has betrayed another person whose only mistake was trusting her. "They will be on their way, and we have to delay them so that Galactica can take out the nuke and get to our people on the planet. Get ready to fight! For freedom! For our prophet, for our people, for our democracy!"

Her Lee. As if he'd never doubted for a second, as if nothing had changed from the moment he had that gun aimed at Tigh's head, and Laura is old, she is too old, and Isobel is.

Isobel is somewhere, and Gina is spasming on the stage, unaware that she's dead, and Gaius Baltar's hands are on the wound and he's screaming, he's screaming like a woman and Laura can't let herself cry now.

Get on the stage, she reminds herself. This was always part of the plan, whether or not Isobel's part went well. Get on the stage and be ready. She struggles through the people, the ones who came armed, the ones who are ready to die.

For her. Is it really for her?

No one should die for her, and gods, Izzie is dead, at least Laura hopes she's dead because the thought of Izzie hitting the floor alive and being trampled to death, or left alone to bleed out is too much and Laura stumbles a little, but she's being pulled up onstage by the same people who shot Valerii.

"It's good to see you, Madam President," one of them says. Corporal Venner.

"Could you find her?" Laura asks in a very small voice.

"The shooter?" Venner asks, sounding surprised.

"Her name is Izzie," Laura says. "Please. Recover the body."

"I'll do what I can," he says, and there's the sound of Centurions. Not too many -- Billy told her, on Ambrosia, they've only got ten, that most of the security was human. Collaborators. Or unknown Cylon models.

There are still four unknown models, and Laura's stomach burns with the unspoken possibility that she's still one of them.

Baltar's still screaming, his face covered in his dead paramour's blood, streaked by tears and spittle. It's all background noise to Laura, who is trying to understand what she's done.

Lee has civilians, their people, ready to take on six Centurions, gods know what else, and Tigh is going to command half a dozen Viper pilots and Galactica against two nuclear bombs and mount a rescue mission.

They could all still die today, but Laura knows they won't.

It's about then when Laura sees Venner lift Izzie's body from a distance unfathomably far from where the girl made her leap. How, how could anyone fly that far and make that impossible shot? The gods must have been with Izzie, and surely, if they were with her then...

Venner shakes his head at her.

Dead. Dead in her last, desperate attempt to save all their lives. And trampled by the people she liberated.

The breath rushes out of her body, and despite knowing the power of an image, of myth, when the door burst open and the battle starts, the President of the Colonies is not on her feet, standing defiant against the occupier.

Even now, when hope is no longer lost and Lee Adama has taken up his father's mantle to fight and win for them all.

She can't find the will to stand up, and so, when history finds her, Laura Roslin will always be on her knees, mourning her dead.


End file.
